


Subhuman

by MizutaniShizuku



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, F/M, Love Triangles, Marley (Shingeki no Kyojin), Plot Twists, Reader-Insert, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Manga Spoilers, Warriors (Shingeki no Kyojin) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29053968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizutaniShizuku/pseuds/MizutaniShizuku
Summary: Appearances can be deceiving. Growing up in Liberio, the internment zone in the heart of one of the strongest nations, life is grueling and bleak. Forced to join the gilded Warrior program to inherit the power of the titans and destroy Marley, you are nothing but a slave to the wishes of the Restorationists. Your mother, Zeke, and Pieck are your only sanctum in the cruel world. The more time you spend in the Warrior program, the more you realize that not everything is as it seems. How easily everything can be stolen from you.
Relationships: Pieck Finger/Reader, Zeke Yeager/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	Subhuman

“Wait up!” A boy with golden hair sputters. His hand outstretched as he runs to catch up to you. Zeke barrels with all his might, his uniform disheveled, and the yellow armband shifts out of place. 

“You’re too slow,” you tease. “How will you become a Warrior when I’m faster than you?”

“It doesn’t help that you’re faster than everyone.” Zeke lets out a listless laugh. “Good thing I don’t want to be a Warrior, anyway.” He confesses, his icy blue eyes fall to the floor. 

“Who would? Your lifespan is shortened to thirteen years, that is if you survive that long.” You admit with a grimace. You never wanted to become a Warrior, it was a decision forced on you. 

The Warrior Unit was a group of skilled Eldians who inherited the power of the Titans. Warriors are given the privilege to compensate Marley for past tragedies committed by Eldians. They are vessels for Marley to use as they please. In your mind, Warriors are glorified slaves. 

The process to become a Warrior was excruciating and nerve-wracking. Warrior candidates were chosen based on strength, endurance, intelligence, and stamina exams. Children as young as five enter the training program and dealt with long, difficult trials until only the strongest remain. In the eyes of Marley, the Warrior Unit was a pawn in their constant hunger for conquest. 

Brainwashed from a young age, you had believed that being chosen as a Warrior was a great honor and privilege. Your parents were no exception to the indoctrination, however with a different agenda. Your father coerced you to join the Warrior training program the same year as Zeke. 

Families of Warriors held commemoration ceremonies, distributing food in celebration of the Titan shifter’s accomplishments. Your time in the Warrior training program taught you the ceremonies were early funerals. Once the candidates became Warriors, their lives were no longer their own. They became the property of the Marley government. 

Warriors had some perks; Honorary Marleyan status, access to better healthcare, a salary. All in exchange for the remainder of your diminished life. The longer you spend in the Warrior program, the more you grow to hate everything about it. The honor, privilege, and praise mean nothing to you. Your interests lie elsewhere. 

The only reason you push yourself harder than anyone else is for your mother. She had some obscure form of arthritis. It showed up as weak knees at first, but these last few years your mother could hardly walk anymore. Even Dr. Jaeger did not know the cause of her agony. His prescriptions did nothing to ease her pain. 

You hoped Magath chose you to become a Warrior before arthritis stole her ability to walk completely. You close your eyes and memories from the past flood your mind. Memories of when your mother danced while tugging you in her hands as she sang. She was always singing or dancing, oftentimes both. It was a simpler time back then. 

A shudder passes your spine. You were determined to give her the medical attention she needed, once you were a Warrior. The days when your mother danced and sang would come again. That was all the reason you needed. 

An arm wraps around your shoulder and pulls you in. “Ahh, my two favorite candidates.” A girl with dark hair hums. 

“Pieck!” You exclaim. “Where have you been?” Pieck had a knack for being late. 

“I slept in a bit.” She muses and leans her head in the crevice of your neck. Her familiar scent of white tea and sage fill your nostrils. 

“A bit?” Zeke nudges Pieck with his elbow. 

A bell rings in the distance. “We need to hurry or else Magath will punish us with another endurance exercise.” You mention as you stretch your leg back, getting ready to sprint. 

“It’s Commander Magath to you.” A voice bellows. All three of you turn around to see a dark-haired man wearing a standard military uniform tower over you. 

You and Zeke raise your hands to salute Magath, Pieck follows soon after. The customary greeting when encountering a superior officer. A depreciating thought passes you. _No matter how hard we train, we will always remain second class citizens, subhuman to Marleyans._

“Yes Commander, I-” You start a rehearsed apology at the tip of your tongue. You lucked out and didn’t use your preferred nickname earlier. _Maggot._

“Thirty laps.” Commander Magath interjects. He has no time for your meaningless words. Magath points to the training grounds. He turns to leave but just before he is out of earshot, a snicker escapes Zeke. He clamps a hand on his mouth, praying Magath ignores him. 

“Thirty laps for you too, Jaeger.” Magath orders, without sparing a second glance. 

A small smile plasters your face. “That’s what you get for laughing at me.” You jab Zeke, who in turn scowls at your betrayal. 

Pieck joins in and laughs. _Maybe Warrior training won’t be so unbearable._

While Pieck basks in the sunlight on a bench nearby, you and Zeke run for an eternity in the sizzling heat. Your legs ache at first, but after twenty laps, you could hardly feel them anymore. You curse Magath, your deep hatred for him spurs you forward. He must know about the public endurance tests today. Instead of preparing for later, Magath has you using up your energy on trivial laps. Thanks to your bottomless spite towards the Commander, you breeze through the remaining ten rounds. 

Sweat covers your body, the white Warrior uniform did nothing to aerate your sticky muscles. Still, you finish ages before Zeke, not that it meant anything. Zeke was one of the slowest in the Warrior program. He wasn’t weak but he certainly did not try as hard as you did. 

You take a seat next to Pieck and wait for Zeke to finish his laps. Pieck leans her arms back and sways her legs on the bench. 

“If you had the choice, which titan would you want to inherit?” Pieck asks, the question catches you off guard. Her dark eyes gaze over you and her nimble fingers straighten your lopsided yellow armband. 

You never gave it a thought. No one had ever asked you what you wanted. You prop your elbows on your knees as you deliberate. 

“Hmm, perhaps the Female Titan?” You gush. The Female Titan was unyielding on the battlefield, one of the most powerful of the seven titans under Marley’s control. Capable of hardening different parts of its body, the Female Titan was invincible against enemy attacks. Known for its competence, speed, and ability to call nearby Pure Titans, the Female Titan is a force to be reckoned with. 

“The Female Titan is pragmatic, I can see why you would choose it.” Pieck turns her head back and scans the cloudy sky. 

“What about you, Pieck?” You inquire, curious as to what she would decide. 

“I’d pick the Colossus” Pieck confides. “All I have to do is transform and any enemy in proximity is annihilated.” 

“Truly a god of destruction.” You whisper, hugging your knees close to your chest. 

Zeke collapses on the bench beside you, his breathing heavy. You hand him your water canteen and he gulps every drop. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Zeke questions, wiping the sweat off his face with his hands. 

“What titans we would select if given the choice,” Pieck responds, her tenacious eyes trace the clouds above.

“I picked the Female Titan and Pieck chose the Colossus.” You surmise. 

“Really?” His eyes widened. “I’d pick the Beast Titan,” Zeke murmurs. 

Pieck removed her gaze from the sky and studies Zeke. “Why?” 

“The Beast Titan is the most versatile, we can never know what form it may have next,” Zeke explains. 

While the other Titans remained the same, the Beast Titan changed with every shifter. Throughout Marleyan history, the Beast Titan was known to take the shape of any animal. However, not all forms of the Beast Titan can be useful in war. The current Beast Titan inheritor did not have a form that was beneficial in battle so they focused on titan research. Out of all the Titans, the Beast Titan was a wild card. 

“The possibilities are endless.” His cheeks flush with excitement. 

“Zeke, the Colossus has a better chance outrunning you before you’d get the chance to become a Titan shifter.” You snort. Next to you, Pieck giggles. Her soft laugh made teasing Zeke all the more worth it.  


* * *

The sun disappears behind overcast clouds that cover the silver sky. The weather shifts from warm and temperate to dark and dreary in the span of hours. 

“Ready for the endurance exam?” Pieck asks, sarcasm coats her words. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You respond, matching her tone. You dread the public endurance tests the Marleyan military held at the end of each month. Family members from Liberio were allowed to cross the security border surrounding the internment zone to watch the progress of the Warrior trainees. While Magath preached the public tests lifted morale and added a friendly competition, in reality, it was a bloodbath. 

“Hope I don’t get mauled today.” Pieck sighs, as she rubs the dark bruise that stretched along her calf from last month’s exam. 

Candidates often played dirty. Those at the bottom of the list would shove, bulldoze, and ‘accidentally’ injure fellow candidates to raise their ranking. Magath turned a blind eye unless serious damage was done. You had witnessed trainees leave the endurance exams with broken limbs while others were unscathed despite inflicting the damage. 

“I won’t let it happen.” You declare while caressing the blemish. You remembered the boy who had pushed your best friend into one of the many ditches in the testing arena. The candidate had cost her valuable time and managed to leave her limping. He was lucky Pieck did not crawl out of the ditch concussed, or you would have had his head. 

“Wish you could say the same for me.” Zeke sulks. His words snap you out of your intrusive thoughts. 

“No one would bother sabotaging the bottom of the ranks, it would be a waste of time.” You quip with a wink. Zeke elbows your ribs. 

Warrior candidates fought tooth and nail for the coveted top ten spots. Those who made it to the top ten were awarded praise and special prizes. The reward changed every month and ranged from meat to medical supplies. 

Basic human necessities were dangled in front of deprived children and only the best would win. A rotten system that praises the powerful but tramples the weak, a system where you benefit. Every month your family rejoiced with the prizes you won. 

This month’s reward was odd: winner’s pick. The top candidates could select one item from a list of past prizes. A topical pain relief gel for arthritis was your choice. You had won it before, the ointment had numbed your mother’s pain for a few weeks. The cream worked miracles, your mother was able to walk to the market and buy groceries, something she hadn’t been able to do in years.

“You’re after the ointment, right?” Zeke assumes, more of a statement than a question. He was with you that day when his father had explained that the ointment was expensive, thus only available to Marleyans. Zeke knew just how much the medicine meant to you. 

Mere funds held you back from relieving your mother’s pain, a fact that made you grind your teeth. You vow to win the gel again if it was ever offered. Today was your chance. 

You nod your head. Zeke catches the determination in your eyes. Nothing can stop you from getting what you want. 

Marleyan soldiers went as far as placing bets on which candidates would make the top ten. While Zeke had yet to make the ten, you held the prized third spot. Pieck had earned the seventh spot for the past three months. Her stamina and endurance were what saved her from the pits of the list. You were a well-rounded candidate, what you lacked in strength and stamina, you made up for in intelligence and endurance. Zeke only had high marks in intelligence, the rest of his grades were mediocre, average at best. 

The endurance test was a glorified horse race, but with starved children instead of stallions on steroids. All of the candidates would line up and run through a treacherous course riddled with cracks and holes, perfect for breaking ankles. Each candidate was required to carry forty pounds of equipment and a rifle to simulate a battlefield. The first ten to finish the maze of a race would win whatever their hearts desired, as long as it was on the prize list. The stakes were insurmountable and every candidate jittered with nerves. 

You strap a massive military canvas bag to your back, brimming with gear and supplies. The forty pounds of equipment no longer felt overbearing, you had grown used to the weight. From the shed, you wrap your wiry arms around three rifles and return to where Pieck and Zeke are situated. 

Pieck tightens her combat boots as you place a standard rifle next to her. Zeke paces around, anticipating the worst. The endurance test was hard on everyone, but if candidates consistently ranked low, Commander Magath removed them from the program. His stellar intelligence exam scores were the only reason he was in the top twenty. Zeke had to succeed on the endurance test or else he was in danger of being dismissed. 

You wish there was something you could do for Zeke. You could see the fear in his eyes. Fear of being kicked out. Fear of not meeting his parents’ expectations. 

“Snap out of it,” You demand, shaking his shoulders. Zeke was a nervous wreck. 

Pieck places her hand on his trembling knee.“We are here for you, no matter what.” She soothes. 

“I don’t know-” Zeke fidgets, “I don’t know what will happen to me if Commander Magath expels me from the Warrior program”. His blue eyes frantic when they meet yours. 

You remember the countless hours Zeke would spend with you the night before an intelligence exam, cramming material and drilling formulas into your brain. The way he would explain difficult problem sets with patience until you understood. 

You grab his canvas bag and empty some of his equipment into your own bag. _This is the least I can do._

“What are you-” Zeke begins. 

“I’m doing what I can to make sure you don’t get kicked out.” You cut him off. Zeke watches your careful movements as you fill your pack with military rations and bullets. You weigh his pack in one arm and yours in the other. There’s a good twenty-pound difference between the two. 

“It’s hardly noticeable,” Pieck confirms. Her hair sways as she turns to face you.“Don’t push yourself,” she warns. Always the worrywart. 

You place the packs by your feet and lift your head. “I won’t.” 

Zeke wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you in. Your hands hover and then settle on his back. “Thank you,” he whispers, suppressing a sob. You grasp him closer. Your eyes widen at how frail Zeke is. He lost more weight. His parents must have been pushing him harder. The thought makes your blood boil. Of all people, Dr. Jaeger should know the physical limits of the human body. You can feel a thin arm enclose your waist. Pieck holds you tight and the fire dissipates. 

“Good luck,” she whispers. 

“5 minutes, candidates!” Commander Magath barks outside the shed. You shuffle together to the start line. Your shoulders creak with the added weight, the straps of the pack digging into your uniform. 

_I can handle this, fifty pounds is nothing._ You convince yourself. In the corner of your eye, you notice a tall, dark-haired man watching you intently. Your father decides to make an appearance. He never missed the public examinations. 

There is a large crowd surrounding the arena. Family members of Warrior candidates and members of the Marleyan military wait for the race to begin. Following Zeke’s gaze into the crowd, you spot Dr. Jaeger. Only you don’t see the man who runs the nearby clinic in Liberio. Instead, you see a haunted man give Zeke a disgusted look. It’s a warning glance, fail the endurance exam and there won’t be a home for Zeke to return to. 

Dr. Jaeger turns his attention to you and his face shifts. Now, he is sporting an encouraging expression and even gives you a thumbs up for good luck. Anger bubbles in your chest. The gesture is disgusting. _What a twisted man._

Sometimes you didn’t know who was worse; your father or Zeke’s. Not once have they seen you as children, just pawns in their scheme to overthrow Marley. At least your father wouldn't bother with a facade. 

You bring your focus back to the race. Now is not the time for an existential crisis. Commander Magath fires the starting pistol, signaling everyone to run. The sharp sound rings in your ears. You sprint through many candidates, leaving them behind. You keep at a steady yet swift pace. Those who run full-throttle at the start of the race are fools and tire out halfway through. You choose to preserve your energy till the end when you can outrun the candidates who thought they had a chance. 

Time slows down as you run. It gives you time to think. You focus on your speed and breathing while you daydream about what life would be like if you weren’t training to be a Warrior. You would work in your mother’s seamstress shop after school. You would learn to cook the savory dishes she mastered over the years. You would live a life worth living, instead of the routine extraneous workouts and mentally draining tests. 

_But then I would have never met Zeke and Pieck._ You shake your head at the thought. Now, where would you be without them? A warm feeling fills your chest. Perhaps becoming a Warrior wasn’t the life you wanted, but Zeke and Pieck made breathing easier. They were your sanctuary in this cruel world. 

Your groaning shoulders snatch you back to reality. You taste blood in your mouth, you must have bitten your lip too hard. Your bottom lip tingles, but the pain takes the attention off your shoulders. 

Surveying the arena, you see two candidates ahead of you, a third matching your pace. You crane your head back to catch a glimpse of Pieck. Zeke further behind her, but still visible. Pieck’s black hair billows in the wind. She dodges a trench and runs past another candidate. A boy with blonde hair in an undercut style. The same candidate from last time. 

Your eyes flash and you feel an uncanny sensation in your gut. You slow down, allowing several candidates to pass you. Pieck is still running full speed, her eyes shine with newfound determination. The finish line must be close. 

The blonde boy gives her a hostile look before moving to shove her into an approaching ditch. 

_Not again._ You run with all your might and pull Pieck out of the other candidate’s grasp. The boy tries to flee, but that was his second mistake. His first was when he thought he could get away with hurting Pieck. But you don’t let him scot-free. Before he can react, you crush his calf with the heel of your boot, hard enough to bruise. 

_An eye for an eye._ Satisfaction fills your chest. 

Pieck releases a gasp and turns to see the candidate fall to his side. She tugs your arm, reminding you that the endurance exam is still happening. 

“Run!” Pieck shrieks. 

Her words ground you and soon you are full throttling towards the finish line like a fool. The jar of ointment flashes in your mind. You are bound to run off steam, but you push forward. The blanket of fatigue disintegrates, replaced by adrenaline. 

You steamroll pass candidates, the finish line so close, you can taste it. Memories spur you forward. Your mother, dancing while holding you in her arms. Pieck, the scent of sage and white tea whenever she leans on your shoulder. Zeke, explaining a particularly difficult problem set before an intelligence exam. As you cross the finish line, you close your eyes. You experience a fleeting moment of freedom. 

The fantasy shatters when Commander Magath clasps a hand on your shoulder. 

“How did you surpass several candidates? Tell me, what drugs-” His words fade in and out. The adrenaline crashes and the disappointed dark eyes that belong to your father are the last thing you see. The world turns pitch black. 

It’s late afternoon when you regain consciousness. The incessant groans and moans of patients prod you awake. Your head throbs and you notice an IV line buried under the skin of your arm, attached to a clear liquid.

You hear muffled words through the thin door. 

“Drug test came back negative. The only reason she passed out was that she was overexerted and dehydrated.” A cold voice states. “Don’t waste my time with an Eldian devil, I have more important matters to attend to.” 

Commander Magath opens the door of the dull infirmary room. He watches you for a moment before approaching carefully. 

“Electrolytes,” he answers upon seeing your attention on the clear IV bag hanging off a metal stand. 

You respond with a nod and a salute. Knowing from experience, it’s best to limit speaking with the Commander as everything you say will be used against you. 

“You fainted due to severe dehydration after finishing the endurance exam.” Magath clarifies. His eyes are sympathetic, the wrinkles around his eyes relax. 

“You outran numerous candidates and finished fourth in the race.” The Commander continues. Your drop in ranking explains the grim look your father gave you just before you fainted. You will never be enough. You will never meet his impossible standards. You rub the temples of your head as the throb worsens. 

Magath reaches a hand in his pocket. He produces a small jar and places it on your hands. 

“As promised, here is your prize.” The jar of ointment. Your breath hitches. “Jaeger notified me that this is the reward you wanted.” _Because of course, he would._ Of course, Zeke would go out of his way to ask Commander Magath for the ointment jar, likely facing some verbal thrashing from the Commander. Tears well up in your eyes from the gesture. 

“Thank you, Commander.” Your words are genuine. Perhaps it's the first time your words directed at the Commander didn’t have a hidden meaning. 

Magath pulls out the IV line and secures your arm in a bandage. 

“You are free to leave. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Magath turns to leave, taken aback from your appreciation. As soon as the door closes, a dark figure crawls in from the window. The motion scares the daylights out of you. When you recognize it’s Pieck sprawled out on the floor and not your sleep paralysis demon, you sigh in relief. 

“Pieck, I almost had a heart attack because of you!” You squeal. 

“I had to make sure you were okay, I was worried sick because of you,” Pieck whispers. She runs a hand through your soft hair. 

You rise off the bed and wobble to your boots. “Are you okay? Did the boy try to hurt you again after I left?” 

“Who? Pock?” You incline your head, Porco you believe his name was. Poco must be a nickname. “He was out for a bit after what you did.” A smile cracks through her worried expression. 

“You bought Zeke time. He made the top ten because of you.” Your fingers stop lacing your boots in disbelief. 

“Zeke made the top ten?” You ask, unconvinced. 

“He did,” Pieck resumes. “Zeke went to the Commander and requested if he could deliver the ointment to you but Magath flipped out and ordered him to scrub his office from top to bottom with a toothbrush.” 

“Magath does not hold back on unusual punishments.” You shrug on your military coat. 

“We should go help Zeke, hopefully, he’s done by now.” Pieck beams and follows you out of the infirmary. You’re glad to be out of there. The constant painful groans of patients still haunt you. 

When you find Zeke in Magath’s spotless office, he seems different. Older, despite seeing him only hours before. There is a sad glint in his eyes. 

Pieck notices immediately. No one can avoid her empathetic radar. “Zeke, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s the matter?” Pieck probes.

“It’s nothing,” he fibs. Zeke is an expert in bottling up his emotions, but you see right through his facade. 

You give Pieck a look and decide not to question Zeke further. _He will talk to us when he’s comfortable._

_Or I will just fish it out of him tomorrow_ Pieck muses back. After spending years with her, the telepathic conversations came naturally to you two. 

After another long day of perilous training, you are glad to be walking home in peace. The peach sunset is the perfect view while heading back. The walk to Liberio isn’t long. You stroll with an arm linked around Pieck’s, while Zeke follows close behind. 

“Have you heard of the Restorationists?” Pieck asks. Your eyes examine the vicinity. Even mention of their name was enough to warrant arrest. The Marleyan authorities were ruthless, always looking for a reason to punish Eldians. 

You nod your head. The Restorationists were a band of radical Eldians; their objective to overthrow Marley and restore Eldia. 

Something flashes in Zeke’s eyes. He shrugs it off before he answers. “I heard they are planning something big.” 

“Really?” Your temples throb. Your father is an Eldian extremist, it was the main reason he forced you to join the Warrior program. He has a large elaborate plan where you would inherit a titan and destroy Marley for the Eldians. 

Your father meets with Dr. Jaeger and the other Restorationists almost every other night. You hate your father for it. For forcing his beliefs down your throat. For choosing Eldia’s potential freedom over the safety of his family. 

An Eldian massacre was the last thing Liberio needs.

“I overheard some superior officers discussing today. They are close to discovering the identities of the Restorationists.” Zeke reveals, his pale eyes empty and sullen. 

He turns to look at you. “Soon we will both be sent to Paradis,” Zeke confesses, despair clings to his features. 

The harsh reality hits you. It’s only a matter of time the Marleyan soldiers break into the homes of the Restorationists and take everything they hold dear. There was nothing you could do. You will live the rest of your life as a mindless titan, wandering Paradis and devouring innocent Eldians. Tears brim your eyes, threatening to spill. 

Pieck wrapped her arms around you and Zeke. “I should have known.” Sorrow coats her words. The world is spinning. You can’t wrap your head around your impending doom. 

“There is another way.” His words cut through your fearful fantasies. “We snitch. We tell the Marleyan authorities that our parents fed us lies but we came clean.” 

“We sell out our own families?” You fume, your eyes wide with fear. 

“They will spare us if they think we betrayed our families for Marley,” Zeke explains. 

You couldn’t recognize the person before you. The Zeke you knew was determined, cheeky, and sensitive. Now, he was cold and cunning. A stranger. Was this the same Zeke from this afternoon? 

“We are betraying our families!” You retort, your nails dug into the rough skin of your hands. “How are you so calm? How could we-” Your fists quiver with anger. 

Fear consumes you. The soldiers won’t care about your mother’s crippled legs. They would drag her out of your home above her seamstress shop and detain her against her will. They would torture her for information she never knew. They would kill her before she even got to taste freedom. Worse, they would send her to Paradis. 

Pieck pulls you in for a warm embrace. You try to find the words. “I can’t, I could never. This is more than just our parents but the families of countless others. We cannot play with other people’s lives. I refuse to sell out the families of Liberio.” 

Zeke watched you for a moment. “If the Public Security Authorities discover that your mother is not connected to the Restorationists, they may spare her as well.” He saw right through your words. 

In seconds, you lunge at Zeke. You grab the collar of his uniform and stretch the fabric as you reel him in. “May spare her?” You spit. “Marley has no mercy for treason. They will send her to Paradis before she has a chance to prove her innocence.” The last thing you want is his pity. 

“Do you think I want to do this? Any of this?” Zeke grills, anguish in his voice. “I spoke to Mister Ksaver, he said that this was our only way out.” He clutches your fists with a gentle touch. 

Sell out the Restorationists or spend an eternity in Paradis. You let go of Zeke’s uniform and slump to the floor. Never have you felt so close to death. 

“I won’t have anyone left. My mother is all I have, I can’t-” You babble, tears slide down your face. Pieck kneels on the floor next to you, her white uniform sprinkled with dust from the streets. She cradles your head close to her chest and takes out a handkerchief to wipe your tears. You sob into her uniform, your trembling fingers clasp her faded coat.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay.” Pieck ran a hand through your soft hair. “You can live with me and my father. I won’t leave you alone to fend for yourself.” She comforts, her warm words are the light at the end of the tunnel. Your hands shudder as they snaked their way around her waist. You felt so detached, so cold. The small jar of ointment felt impossibly heavy in your pocket. 

You feel another pair of arms envelope from behind you, Zeke joins you on the floor. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry it had to be like this.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hii
> 
> I've been brainstorming Subhuman for weeks and finally got around writing it. Buckle up, this is going to be an emotional rollercoaster. Let me know what you guys think!
> 
> If you like Zeke/Reader, check out my other work: Exception. 
> 
> Shameless Twitter plug (@monkesupremacyy).


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